


Entwined

by zelda_zee



Category: Historical RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-15
Updated: 2009-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Our names will never be forgotten."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entwined

They lay naked in a pavilion beside the river. There is a canopy, filmy drapes to keep the insects at bay, a bed, linens that smell of sweet herbs, pillows softer than a cloud.

Antinous is on his knees beneath him, braced and trembling, golden skin shining with sweat and almond oil, muscles standing out in sharp relief. His head hangs down between the strong wings of his shoulder blades, his hair curling damply at the back of his neck. Hadrian licks over the hot skin, the taste of salt filling his mouth.

“I would take you in the great hall.” It’s a threat and a promise that will never be fulfilled, but it makes Antinous' cock twitch in his hand. “Let everyone see what I do to you. Let them hear your cries.”

“I want you to,” Antinous gasps. “I want them to see.”

“See that you’re mine,” Hadrian growls. Everyone knows Antinous is his. That doesn’t mean Hadrian doesn’t shudder at the thought of them seeing the reality of what it means.

Antinous’ hand gropes to Hadrian’s hip, grabs and pulls him in harder, deeper. He groans and arches, pushing back as Hadrian gives him what he wants, gritting his teeth and pounding into Antinous until he tenses, the breath stuttering out of him in a twisted, helpless moan as he comes, a hot gush into Hadrian’s palm.

Hadrian folds down over him, pulls him back onto his cock in savage jerks that make Antinous writhe in his grip, his voice going high and desperate as his fingers claw at the sheets. Hadrian closes his eyes and lets sensation overwhelm him – pulsing tightness around his cock and the heady smell of sex and sweat and almond, his hand wet and slippery around Antinous’ still-hard prick.

 _Mine, all mine_ , he thinks, and lets the ecstasy take him, lets it strip him down until Caesar disappears and all that’s left is a shivering, pleasure-torn man, clutching his beloved to him and whispering words of praise and gratitude into his ear.

 

Afterward, Antinous dozes, sprawled on his stomach, legs spread, arms flung out wide. Hadrian watches him, his mind uneasy. Antinous is beautiful, the most beautiful boy in the empire. He will always be beautiful, that will never change, regardless of his age.

But Antinous has changed from that day that he first caught Hadrian’s eye, when he was shy and slender-limbed and the hair was still sparse at his groin. Now, Antinous is a man, nearing twenty, broad-shouldered and hard-muscled and Hadrian, who is reaching the age where such urges are frowned upon, still wants him with a hunger that hasn’t waned in all the years Antinous has been by his side.

Hadrian sighs. He traces softly over the back of Antinous’ arm, down his forearm, where the heat makes the veins stand out. Antinous doesn’t stir. He always sleeps hard after lovemaking.

Their time is coming to an end and Hadrian doesn’t know how he is going to bear it. How either of them will. Another year at most, before the force of custom and propriety will insist that their relationship end, and they can only get away with that much time because Hadrian is Caesar. Any longer will ruin Antinous, and Hadrian loves him too much to be the instrument of his shame.

The irony isn't lost on him, that he can have anything he wants in the world, save the one thing that truly matters.

Hadrian thinks about it more and more often. He knows Antinous must think about it too. But they haven’t spoken of it, not once.

 

When Antinous wakes they walk through the tall, green grass to the river, fingers interlaced.

“We’re leaving soon,” Hadrian tells him, then he chuckles. “Well, as soon as the court can be made ready to relocate, so it won’t be for at least a month.” Antinous smiles in acknowledgment. They’ve lived this life for long enough now, the rhythms and requirements of the royal court are as ingrained in Antinous as they are in Hadrian, who sometimes can barely recall anything else. “You’ll like Egypt,” Hadrian says, knowing it’s true. The mysteries of the ancient world fascinate them both.

“Of course,” Antinous agrees. It wouldn’t cross his mind not to, just as it wouldn’t cross Hadrian’s to ask if he wishes to accompany him. “I’m sure I’ll like it.”

This will most likely be the last campaign that Antinous accompanies him on. Hadrian wonders if Antinous realizes that.

Antinous grins at him and it dazzles. Hadrian stops them, and Antinous turns to him, one brow raised in question. The grass waves against Antinous’ thighs as he stands, naked in the sunlight, his hair glinting darkly, his eyes holding Hadrian’s entire life in their depths.

Hadrian takes Antinous’ face between his hands and Antinous’ eyes soften. “Maybe we should forego our return altogether,” Hadrian says, thinking about possibilities, life away from the rigid protocol of society’s dictates, thinking there must be a place where a man and his lover can remain together if they so desire. “Maybe we should stay here, run away to the desert - live out the rest of our lives in the wilderness, like the prophets.”

Antinous laughs. “We’d grow long, shaggy beards and eat beetles and people would come to us for wisdom – the old, wild men who live in a cave. Eventually even our names would be forgotten.”

“Our names will never be forgotten,” Hadrian says.

“ _Your_ name will never be forgotten.” Antinous smiles, but there’s a bitter twist to his lips, and Hadrian frowns to see it. “The gods grant immortality to Caesar, not to his lovers.”

“Your name will never be forgotten,” Hadrian avers, and leans forward to kiss the bitterness from Antinous’ mouth. He strokes his thumb over the perfect bottom lip, pleased when Antinous’ smile smoothes out behind it. “I promise you,” he whispers, resting his forehead on Antinous’, “our names will be entwined forever, just as my heart is with yours.”

“I would be happy to be forgotten,” Antinous says softly, almost as if he doesn’t dare say it aloud. “If I could only be with you always.”

Hadrian closes his eyes, because it _hurts_ , the pain in Antinous’ voice. He’d do anything to banish it.

“Antinous –”

“I know,” he interrupts, his smile falsely bright. “You needn’t say. I’ve always known that someday I’d – someday you’d have to –” His keen eyes scan the meadow, the river, looking anywhere but at Hadrian, standing right before him. “Not until afterward, all right? Not until we return to Rome. Tell me we have until then.”

Hadrian swallows around the lump in his throat. “Of course,” he says. “But you need not –”

“It’s so hot,” Antinous says, frowning petulantly; just an act, a distraction. He pulls Hadrian forward, toward the water. “Shall we go for a swim?”

 

Hadrian watches Antinous from the bank of the river, watches him cut through the dark water with ease, the sun shining on his wet skin, the play of muscle as he slices across the current. Hadrian lays back, drowsy, and shuts his eyes and lets the fatigue of an afternoon spent fucking and the draining heat of the sun draw him into sleep.

He dreams of Antinous, surrounded by offerings of wreaths of red flowers and fruit, grain and vegetables. But this is not his Antinous. The Antinous of his dream is cold and white, unmoving. Hesitantly, Hadrian reaches out to touch his arm and recoils when he encounters cold stone. He’s made of marble, an exact likeness, so perfect that Hadrian feels his eyes fill with tears, though he’s not sure why.

He looks around, because he wants to share this with Antinous, wants to hear what he’ll say about a statue that mirrors his appearance so unerringly, knows he’ll make some kind of joke, something that will make Hadrian laugh and that will banish this strange, sick feeling in his chest.

But Antinous is nowhere to be seen; there is no one else at all, only more statues, each varying slightly from the others, each of Antinous, each of them made of dull, cold, lifeless stone.

Suddenly, Hadrian is afraid. He calls Antinous’ name again and again, but the statues only stare back at him expressionlessly.

He wakes with Antinous leaning over him, his dark hair falling forward around his face, his skin beaded with droplets that catch the sunlight.

“Were you dreaming?” he asks.

“Yes. It was nothing.” Hadrian doesn’t want to explain about the lifeless statues, the dread he felt in being surrounded by them, alone. So alone. He gazes up at Antinous, gradually coming back to himself.

“You called my name,” Antinous says. “It sounded like a bad dream.” He straddles Hadrian where he lays, his thighs cool and still wet from the river. “Shall I make you forget it?” Drops of water land on Hadrian’s chest and goose bumps rise on his skin. His hands go to Antinous’ waist, thumbs tracing the groove of his hips, brushing over the hair at his groin, damp and sleek.

Antinous leans down over him, his eyes dark and full of promise, shifts his hips and Hadrian looks down to see his cock, heavy and full. He takes it in his hand and Antinous hisses and rocks slowly into his touch.

Hadrian would like nothing more than to spear Antinous on his cock and fuck him until the stars come out, but the raw truth is that he’s reached the age where once a day is all he can manage. But Antinous is young and hungry and Hadrian has never been able to deny him, has never had any desire to.

So Antinous rides Hadrian’s fingers, tight and hot around them, still slick inside with Hadrian’s release. Hadrian knows how to touch him, how to bend his fingers to make Antinous gasp and shudder. He can make him come in minutes or draw it out for hours, and he’s in no hurry now, content to feel the muscles of Antinous’ thighs flex against his hips in a sinuous back and forth rhythm, to watch him as he loses himself, as his mouth goes slack and his eyes glaze over.

Antinous brings Hadrian’s hand to his mouth, licks his palm, his fingers, then curls them around his cock. Hadrian strokes and Antinous groans loudly, his head falling back. Hadrian holds Antinous in his hands, works him between them, bringing forth sighs and broken moans and panted-out words, _yes, like that, oh please_. He lets Antinous take his pleasure of him, reveling in the sweetness of having that which he most treasures in the world between his two hands.

He lets it build slowly, playing Antinous like a well-known song, so that when he comes it’s powerful and uncontrolled and he shouts, full-voiced, his cry carried up to the wide sky.

Antinous collapses onto him, sweating, trembling, breathing out quiet, throaty moans. Hadrian holds him close, inhales the captivating scent of him, presses kisses to the crown of his head, murmuring soothing nonsense into his hair.

The sun is sinking toward the horizon and a cool breeze rises up from the river, rustling the grass. Antinous kisses his chest and Hadrian feels his lips curve into a smile against his skin and Hadrian closes his eyes and tries for just a few moments to forget that there is anything but this.

 


End file.
